Flamin' Skulls of Fashion!
by Khebidecia
Summary: New York came to accept that Spider-Man was into fashion these days, what with all the new costumes. Many people even loved paying attention and talking about it on social media. But then there was that costume. You know, the one with the flaming skull head. Spirit Spider Origin challenge.


Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Spider-Man, though my sister and I do own copies of some comics, all the movies, and the PS4 game. That said, my sister, Nursing School Grad, and I decided to try to explain the origin of the Spirit Spider suit. We wrote our stories separately and beta read them for each other. Please go and read hers as well.

* * *

Peter liked to think of himself as a friendly person. Even his vigilante lifestyle was geared towards it, what with the quips and the minimal use of violence. He even called himself a "Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man" and was willing to take selfies with and high-five people on the street.

Still, there were some distinctly unfriendly parts of the job. Even though he was a lot less violent than some of the other heroes in town, he still injured a lot of people. One hospital even had a "Victims of the Spider-Menace" fund. It wasn't very big, since all the eligible patients were prisoners who had state sponsored health care, but it was still depressing to think that there were enough injuries associated with his job that the hospital workers would found it in the first place.

Another unfriendly part of him was his secret identity. Oh, he loved having it and he was not willing to give it up, especially considering the recent events with Fisk and Li, but it made getting to know the other heroes harder. He couldn't exactly invite them over for supper, even if he had enough money for extra food like any good host should provide, and they, well they hadn't either. Some had secret identities of their own, and others just did not want to take a risk on him.

Sometimes he liked to imagine it when he swung through their parts of town. In the Upper East Side, he imagined all the Avengers sitting down together for Thanksgiving Dinner—and subsequently having to rush off to save the world before finishing their turkey. In Hell's Kitchen, he imagined sitting down with Daredevil and discussing the best techniques for stopping purse snatchers and the frustration of getting charges to stick when they couldn't testify (just the thought of Daredevil in a court room made him want to laugh—the man had less pull with the police than _he_ did). And in Greenwich, he imagined sitting down with Doctor Strange and discovering that all the flatware was enchanted to be hands-free.

And speaking of Doctor Strange, there was his house right now, Peter realized. He landed on the building across from it to look at the window, wondering again what the reason was for its design.

After a few seconds, he realized that the light shining through the window was moving around, sometimes stronger and sometimes weaker, with the origin point flaring in different places. Peter knew he should not interrupt anything Doctor Strange was doing as he knew nothing about magic, but the effect through the window was actually rather beautiful. He pulled out his camera, hoping to capture a good picture, but he only managed one before the battery died.

"Another example of the Parker Luck," he sighed, putting his camera away and hoping he would remember to charge it later.

As he swung away, Peter had no way of knowing that inside the Sanctum Sanctorum, Doctor Strange was fighting a rather pesky foe who was suddenly very distracted by something Strange could not see outside the walls of his house. He used the distraction to banish the creature, but not before it sent one final spell off, badly misaimed so it shot through the window. Just to be sure, Strange glanced outside, but no one was there and nothing was obviously wrong, so he shrugged it off as nothing too important.

* * *

As Peter swung off to his new apartment, he began feeling a bit off. He didn't feel sick, exactly, and it wasn't his spider-sense, but he could tell that something was not right. Suddenly he saw that the hand stretched in front of him was white and black, not the red, blue, and black of his normal costume. Surprised, he failed to swing off the next building and dropped to the ground.

To his left, someone screamed. Peter turned to see if she needed help, but instead the woman was pointing straight at him. Other people turned to look, some gasping, some shouting, and some screaming like the first lady. "His head!" Peter heard someone shriek.

Puzzled, Peter turned around to face the shop windows behind him. It took a moment for him to spot his reflection, but when he did, he stumbled backwards, just as horrified and stunned as the people surrounding him.

He was wearing a white suit with a large black spider on the front. It looked overly sinuous and overly muscular, and it was not the suit he had been wearing only minutes before. But that was not the worst part. No, the worst part was definitely his mask, if it could even be called that.

He had no mask over his face. In fact, he had no face at all. Instead there was just a skull grinning back at him, bone white and burning with white and blue fire. Reaching up, Peter gingerly poked at his face, unsure whether to be relieved that he could touch it without burning his hand or horrified that touching it confirmed it was real.

The peoples' reactions suddenly made a lot more sense. He, their Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, had a flaming skull head. Maybe calling himself the Superstitious Spider-Spirit would be more fitting.

* * *

Two hours later, Peter was ready to be done with this all. He was still wearing white, and his head was still a skull on fire. This was after dunking himself in all the rivers, ponds, swimming pools, and fountains he could find. He had even smeared the suit with mud, and it was still white. He had aimed a fire extinguisher at his head, and it was still on fire. He visited his local fire department, and they had done their best to help him, but there was no change. He was stuck like this.

Peter was tired, and he knew by now that his head did not seem to be burning anything, so he decided to try to sneak into his apartment. It was late enough that he made it in without anyone seeing him. He pulled his gloves off and started removing the suit to get ready for bed, but as he pulled the neckline away, he saw in the mirror that the flaming skull head had a fabric line of its own.

Almost hopeful and almost fearful, Peter slipped a finger under the fabric, feeling his own skin under it. He gently worked his fingers around the line, breathing a sigh of relief when it seemed that the flaming skull head would turn out to be just another mask after all, albeit the most unusual and horrifying mask he had ever worn.

The mask came off, and he stared at his face in the mirror as the mask sat flaming over one fist, still somehow looking like a skull. His face looked no different than usual after a night of patrol, though if he was honest, he did look frightened. He wasn't the only one either, as all the thugs he happened to encounter had been scared into instant surrender. Jameson would probably claim he had joined some sort of gang or cult.

Deciding to worry about it in the morning, Peter put the mask down, only to have his spider-sense start ringing loudly. He ducked, trying to identify the threat. No one attacked him, but he did notice a strange smell. He looked back at the mask on the floor, and his eyes widened.

Whereas before the flames on his mask had not hurt anything, there was now a fire spreading across the middle of his floor. The fire alarm flared to life, and the sprinkler system followed suit a moment later, but the water did nothing to stop the fire.

Taking a desperate chance, Peter reached out and snatched the faming skull mask off the floor, and the fire on the floor started diminishing again. He had no problem holding the mask in his hand, and slapping it against the wall did not start a new fire.

Peter realized to his dismay what it meant. Hold the mask, or it sets unstoppable fires.

* * *

It was a tired and discouraged Peter Parker who perched a few buildings away from MJ's apartment. He was once again wearing his new costume, and he was scaring just as many people as earlier that evening. It was already getting old, and he wanted it to stop.

Reaching for his phone, he sighed before picking MJ's number. Knowing her, she would still be awake, working on a new article or some other project. Thankfully he was right and she picked up after only two rings.

"Hey, Tiger. Are you calling to give me an exclusive on the rumors of your new suit? I hear it's prevented more crimes tonight than your webs have."

"MJ, yeah, about that, I was hoping you could give me some advice."

"Okay," she replied, clearly hoping he would continue on his own. The only problem was that Peter wasn't sure where to start.

"I didn't decide to wear this on purpose."

"Okay, what does that mean?"

"It means that my normal costume suddenly changed into this horror suit, and whenever I take the flaming skull head mask off, it causes actual fires. MJ, I can't wear this for the rest of my life!" He should have known better, because MJ just started laughing. He loved her so much, but right now he wished she would see his side of it. "MJ, please. I can't take my costume off without disaster."

She seemed to hear the plea in his voice at that, and she stopped laughing. "Are you nearby?"

"Yes. I'm a few buildings away."

"Okay, meet me on my roof." Peter made his way to MJ's roof, and winced a bit when she gave a small gasp. He knew it was shocking, but still. "Does it hurt?" she asked uncertainly.

"Only my pride, and my future, and my feelings when people scream in terror. But it doesn't set anything on fire unless I take it off, if that's what you mean."

At that, MJ walked over to him, braced herself, and gave him a hug. He had no idea how much he needed it until then, and it calmed him far faster than he thought was possible, given the circumstances.

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure. I was heading home to charge my camera, and all of a sudden I noticed that something was different."

"Charge your camera?"

"Yes, it gave out right after I took the picture of…"

"Peter? What is it?" MJ asked after he trailed off.

"I took a picture of some strange lights at Doctor Strange's house."

"And you think that had something to do with this?"

"I have no other clues."

"Okay," MJ said, "Let's go over there, Partner." At the startled look Peter gave her, MJ rolled her eyes a bit. "Don't worry. I'll stay in the background where no one will associate me with you. Let's just swing by your place to pick up some clothes for you to change into after this, and we can pay him a visit."

"Oh yes, I should probably mention that the sprinkler system flooded my apartment."

"The famous Parker Luck, I suppose."

"Sorry about that."

"Don't blame yourself. But if we ever get married, I'm going to make it be Watson-Parker."

Peter had no response to that, and he was just glad the flaming skull hid his blush.

* * *

Half an hour later, Peter stood knocking on Doctor Strange's door. MJ was waiting for him on a nearby roof, and he hoped that this would not take long. Still, it was a few minutes before anyone came to the door, and by then Peter was seriously considering just waiting until morning.

"Spider-Man!" Doctor Strange exclaimed when he saw Peter standing there. "Do I want to know what happened?"

"I would tell you, but I'm not sure myself. All I know is that a few minutes after I swung by here, this happened."

"I knew that escaped curse would cause trouble," Peter heard Strange murmur, but he decided not to comment. He would just be happy if this were reversed.

* * *

Doctor Strange came through and proved his title of Sorcerer Supreme as far as Peter was concerned. It took nearly a full hour, but eventually the curse was gone. Unfortunately his costume was in tatters, but one call to MJ, who showed up with a Spider-Man mask of her own, fixed that.

"Do I want to know what caused that?" Peter asked Strange.

"Your presence startled someone I was battling earlier. The distraction allowed me to finish him off for now, but he unleased one last curse that escaped through my window and seems to have hit you. Don't worry too much. The side-effects should wear off within the next two days or so."

"Side-effects?" asked MJ concernedly.

"Standard magic side-effects. Itching feet, twitching hair. You might have some candle-sized flames shoot out of your fingers, too, considering the type of curse." This did not reassure Peter very much, but Doctor Strange seemed at ease. "Just be glad the curse didn't hit your skin. Then we would have a real problem."

"And the complete body-suit saves the day again!" Peter quipped lamely, hoping to ease the tension. To their credit, neither of the others commented on how weak the joke was.

"It is almost breakfast-time," Strange continued. "You would both be welcome to join me before heading out."

Peter's mood instantly lifted, happy that one of his silly daydreams of dining over with another hero was coming true, and with MJ by his side, no less.

Even if he didn't want to be a Superstitious Spider-Spirit, maybe a morning in high spirits was not bad for him after all.

* * *

Author's Note: The reference to Daredevil was made specifically because he was the first of the other heroes to know Spider-Man's identity as Peter Parker in the comics. In this story, however, neither Spider-Man nor Daredevil know whom the other is.


End file.
